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AFTERMATH 

BY 

Elmer E. Dresser 




WAYLAND WELLS BROTHERHOOD 
SHEBOYGAN, WISCONSIN 



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c, 1 5-54- 




Sheboygan. Wisconsin 
Copyright 1903» By Elmer E. Dresser 









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Iforriuorl 



The twenty-two poems in 
this volume are a genuine 
aftermath to tn^ two former 
volumes, WILD FLOWERS 
and POEMS of PURPOSE. 
The little piece, *' Night*' was 
m}) first attempt at verse. Most 
of the pieces, how ever ^ are of 
later date. Afp work, when- 
ever given to the public, has 
been so kindly received that I 
put forth this edition with con- 
siderable confidence. 



©etiicatorp 



TO MY WIFE 

Thou who hast looked into my inmost heart, 
Joy of my life, there's no poetic art, 
Whose off'rinpf seems not tame unto my love. 
There is a happiness that is above 
The delicate expression of the bard; 
There is a gratitude, which words retard, 
Which finds its utterance in sacred prayer; 
There is a bliss so deep we never dare 
Speak of it but in whispers; and a hope, 
So sweet we tremble at its very scope. 
Before life's lessons we begin to learn. 
Perchance our longings into numbers turn, — 
Numbers so brilliant they resemble quite 
The sharp heat lightenings of a summer night. 
Then sorrow weds with early manhood's verse, 
And distant thunders mutter low their curse, 



The clouds of disappointment span the sky, 

The mists of doubt o'er all the future lie; 

Then stately lines may tell of bitter grief. 

And wordy battles give the heart relief. 

But when at last the Sun of righteousness 

Has driven away the night of our distress, 

And on the background of our sins and tears. 

Foretelling heaven, love's beauteous bow appears; 

Then all the words of poesy are vain, 

Expression cannot to fit height attain. 

Love's proper epic is a noble life; 

May such be ours, my loved and loving wife. 



WHAT I SAW 

"The heavens declare the glory of God" 

The heavens were a field of glory, 

As seen from my window that night 

They were telling the same old story, 
Which the psalmist heard with delight. 

They were bright with ''the flowers of the angels," 

''The forget-me-nots of the sky" ; 
The tiny, twinkling evangels 

Were telling of God, the Most High. 

And high in the arch of the night time 

The moon was shining alone. 
Of all the year 'twas the right time 

To see her upon the throne. 

Her fulness of sun-given brightness 

Had dimmed the stars near by, 
With her soft and silvery whiteness 

Those distant suns could not vie. 

But a cloud that was dark and gloomy 

Was creeping right on toward the moon, 

With its folds so bank-like and roomy, 
It must blot out the brightness soon. 



The moment was almost tragic, 

When the dark front changed to white, 

And the moon — oh, it seemed like magic — 
Was robed in a garment of white. 

And I said to my soul in the cloud-dark, 
''Creep into the presence of God. 

Let thy joy-lighted life be the proud mark 
Of the might of his gracious nod." 



10 



MEN OF VISION 
I 

From the starry heaven, from the heart of earth, 
From the wilds of ocean where the winds have birth, 
From the lands where men are struggling with their fate, 
Voices manifold are calling, God is great. 

From the child who frolics in the summer sun, 

From the man who happy sees his life-work done. 

From the strong who brightly life's sharp stress can grace, 

From the saint who gazes in the Father's face 

While the tears of sorrow dim that Fatherhood, 

Voices to our hearts are saying, God is good. 

He who in the book of nature reads the thought of God, 
He who sees God's beauty bursting from the sod. 
Sees the wealth of ages in the rock's embrace. 
Views the host of star-worlds march with stately grace, — 
He who knows the past of man, the royal, upward way, 
Which the race is treading toward the perfect day. 
When *'the light that lighteth every man" shall rise 
Driving out the darkness, — such know God is wise. 



11 



II 

Highest man with Christ-light raying from his eye 
Shuns the ^wine of self-lust in the world's vile sty, 
Presses up life's Calvary with heavy cross, 
All but greatness, wisdom, goodness, counts but dross. 

God in mercy give us more such godlike men, 
Men of world-wide vision, of prophetic ken, 
Men who from the hilltop of a Christ-like life 
Can inspire the burdened, can allay the strife, 
Can reflect the glory of the life to be. 
Can dispel the sin-clouds of earth's misery. 

Men of vision may we ever seek to be. 
Have the inner eye that things unseen can see, 
See the inner life where love and truth hold sway. 
See the buds of hope that open toward the day, 
Look above the sordid world into the Father's face, 
Look beyond the vale of death unto the Christ of grace, 
Join the skirmish line of leaders who in every age 
Lead to triumph, down the devil, reach a higher stage. 



X2 



AMERICA 

Young is the land we love. No centuries 
Of lore and legend fleck with interest 
Each hill and dale and stream. The ruined tower 
Stands not upon the crag in ivy green. 
No institutions hoary with the years, 
Indigenous, or from some other clime 
Borrowed in days forgot, o'er us hold sway. 

But nature is as old as in the lands, 
Where written records tell of ages gone. 
The prehistoric records of the race. 
Mounds, middens, flints, bones, ore and pictured 

rocks. 
Relate a tale that genius yet shall tell 
In words that make the dead past live again. 

And nature is as beautiful as aught 
The old world shows to traveled eye and ear. 
The Rhine, the Thames, Danube nor Tiber can 
Rival the Hudson, Mississippi, — one 
Set as a jewel between beauteous banks 
Already known in legendary lore. 
The other with the sweep of time untold. 
Vast beyond dreams of ancient bard or seer. 
Building a land, had seemed a continent 



13 



To empires on Euphrates and the Nile. 

St. Lawrence with its ^'thousand islands'' green, 

The Colorado with its canyon grand 

Beyond the word of man, a work of God 

That took the flood of ages to complete, 

And many more betwixt the sea and sea, 

Need fear no rival in the world beside. 

Lakes of all forms and sizes, with all kinds 
Of finny life, make Europe's waters tame ; 
Superior, ocean-like, and Pontchartrain, 
Shallow and brackish from the near-by sea, 
Champlain ev'n now with warlike story rich. 
Strange Utah's Lake of Salt and many more 
That dimple plain and highland, east and west. 

Mountain and waterfall, — Niagara, 
Making sublimest words profanely tame, 
Yosemite, a delicate delight, 
And Minnehaha, misty with romance 
Of Indian man and maid. Sierras white, 
The varied Rockies, Appalachian crests 
In story growing old, — all are unique. 

And living nature is divinely varied : 
The moss-draped cypress by the slow bayou, 
The pine snow-bearded in the frozen north. 
Enormous relics of an age long past 
That linger on Pacific's sunset shore. 
May's fine perfume, the trailing arbutus. 



14 



Stately magnolias in their virgin white, 
The grassy prairie, sage and cactus plains, 
The glint of plumage and the song of bird, 
The beaver wise, the bison, prairie king. 
The alligator basking in the sun, 
The moose amid the pine trees of old Maine, 
Fill eye and ear with charms profuse, diverse. 

And somewhat of historic place have we, 
Though latest born of nations. Bunker Hill 
And Lexington and Concord stir the blood. 
The Cowpens, Saratoga, Valley Forge 
And Yorktown tell of freedom won in fight. 
Tippecanoe, Chalmette and Lundy's Lane 
And many a fight in near-by Mexico 
Mark growth from childhood to maturity. 
Titanic struggle then 'tween North and South ; 
Manassas, Vicksburg, Lookout's cloud-swept brow, 
Atlanta, Gettysburg, the Wilderness 
And Appomattox let the giant know 
That he can live in freedom and achieve ; 
While Santiago and Manilla Bay 
Say to the world, ''Behold a nation just 
And to be counted on in the world's work." 

But most of all the lover of this land 
Thinks of her sons, the noble and the good, 
Who felled the tree and plowed the ground and 
reared 



15 



A social structure, mingling in its strength 

The good of every race and sloughing off 

The outworn waste of older ways of life ; 

The men who built, oft better than they knew, 

A government of men for men that grows, 

Adjustable to every growth of man ; 

The men who made the home, the school, the church 

Blaze out the light of love the world around. 

Earth's proudest boast and highest hope is he 

Who loves and does, the true American. 



16 



THE LOVE OF POETRY 

Who loves not poetry is not complete, 
Far short he falls of the Creator's plan, 

Strength he may have and graces true and sw^eet, 
Yet lacks essential elements of man. 

But what is poetry, one asks. 

The answer is not far to find. 
It is not wrought alone by tasks, 

Nor is it born apart from mind. 

First must be native power, 

Then culture of the heart, 
God's world-large thought as dower. 

The poet then adds art. 

This much, at least, of manhood is in me. 

That I love poetry for its own sake. 
My ear delights in each fine melody, 

Both mind and heart of lovely thoughts partake. 

My poet friends are far from few. 

And day by day I dwell with some, 
For more a lesser love though true 

Enjoys their visits, when they come. 

No two alike in worth, 

Or claims upon my heart. 
Of sweetness, wisdom, mirth, 

Each brings his proper part. 



17 



THE BIRTH OF MUSIC 

When on the upward way 
Unto the brighter day, 

Of which we see the morn, 
Man's mind first caught the gleam 
Of things unseen, — had a dream. 
In life's night, of a light supreme, — 

Music was born. 

The accountant nature cannot hear, — 
Machine-like man can never know, — 

The shallow mind can but come near, — 
For baser souls there is no flow 

Of real music, — such can never. 

In time's forever. 

Catch the rhythmic soul that fills 

The deep of ocean. 

The blue of heaven in calm or motion. 

The quiet of the everlasting hills. 

But to the soul that opens toward the sky, 
And yearns across the ocean's infinite. 

And sees the heart of nature through the clod, 
And finds in right the highest form of 
beauty. 



IS 



There comes, unuttered oft, a melody 
On land or sea, by day or night, 

From life-cell to the throne of God: 
And faith and hope and love, the real Muses, 
Inspire a life-song, which together fuses 

A brightening past, glory to be, and pres- 
ent duty. 



J0^ 



10 



IS POETRY DEAD? 

Dead! "Poetry is dead;'' they say? 

Much of it is, at any rate, 
And much, that seems alive today, 

Will die at no far distant date. 

The death-rate of the ode is great, 
And epics die ere they are born, 

The drama meets an equal fate, 
Dead, as the stage it leaves forlorn. 

But there are names, which yet adorn 
The poet's niche in mem'r3^'s shrine, 

AVhose fame has a perpetual morn, 

Whose numbers glow with fire divine. 

Homer may ''nod,'' but wondrous fine. 
The charm he has for cultured hearts. 

Th' Athenian drama's every line 
Creative ardor yet imparts. 

At Virgil's name the fond mind darts 
To Rome's Augustan age of wit ; 

In festal halls and busy marts, 
Horace and he together sit. 



20 



Stern Juvenal, with satire lit 
From truth's own altar, still has power, 

And exiled Ovid's sad tones flit 
Across the mind in sorrow's hour. 

O'er the long line of centuries tower 

The Hebrew bards, whose every thought 

To mankind gave sweet duty's dower, 

Toward God and man the heavenly "ought. 

The worship of the world is wrought 
Out of the Psalm-book of the Jew, 

Although the psalm of praise has caught, 
Of garb and life, much that is new. 

In every age and land, a few 

Have given poetic thought a voice, 

And live they will the ages through. 
Enrolled, the choicest of the choice. 

'Tis meet that we should all rejoice. 
Because our English tongue contains 

So great a part of the invoice 
Of man's inspired, poetic gains. 

Chaucer without a rival reigns 

In English song, till Spenser's muse, 

With dreamy, pure, enchanted strains 
Makes romance what all English use. 



21 



The name of Shakespeare, bathed in dews 
Of God's own blessing, and the fame 

Of Milton, gorgeous with the hues 
Of genius, make all else seem tame. 

Since then how many a gifted name 

Shines out like star from England's sky, 

At times almost a midday flame 

Illumes all hearts afar and nigh. 

The worth of poetry is high. 
In England New, as well as Old, 

The generation just gone by 
Has seemed a very age of gold. 

But in our day, so we are told, 

Poetry is not, nor can be. 
Perchance another age will hold 

Our work at higher rate than we. 

Much that is Kiplingesque will flee. 
With more of local thought, away ; 

But such death some will never see. 
Their fame will have eternal day. 



22 



NIGHT. 

While the winds rage, 
Like fiends of Mars, 

Above the clouds 

Still shine the stars. 

The storms in might 

Like furies bold 
Fight all the night 

So dark and cold. 

The sun conies forth 

At dawn of day, 
Before his front 

They sneak away. 

So, too, in life 

The troubled night 
Will be dispelled 

By Heaven's own light. 



23 



A THOUGHT-STAR 

Life, our life, by God created, 

Lost amid the mists of sin, 
In the heavenward course belated. 

Clouds without and fears within. 
By the Christ of God is lifted 

"Out of darkness into light," — 
Will be led, Avhile clouds are rifted. 

Till our faith gives place to sight. 



THREE MOTTOS 

Taste thou the sorrow, 
Joy sweeter will be; 

After the Passion, 
Heaven's ecstasy. 

Suffering alway 

Makes leaders of thought; 
Fame, that is worthy. 

Comes never unbought. 

No worthy feeling of the heart 
Is lost. God's true economy 
Gives growth through all eternity 

Unto our spirit's ev'ry part. 



25 



BEYOND THE SCENE 

Snow on the ground, 

Cold in the air, 
Clouds now abound. 

Gloom everywhere. 

Sun struggles out. 
Piercing the gloom, 

Peers all about. 

Leaves to our doom. 

Winds whistle now. 
Chili to the bone. 

Make the boughs bow. 
Forest trees groan. 

Left are the leaves, 

Flowers are no more. 

Ice decks the eaves. 

Stops the brook's roar. 

Summer will come 
Some of these days. 

Insects will hum, 

Flowers line the ways. 



26 



Winter forgot, 
All nature joys, 

Old folks are not, 

All girls and boys. 

Life's winter gone 
Some of these days, 

Spring will come on. 
Heaven all ablaze ! 

Light, life, and love. 
Beauty and truth, 

Find we above 
Immortal youth. 



.^ 



27 



SAVIOR OF THOSE THAT SEEK REFUGE. 

''Savior of those that seek refuge/' 
Sweet are the words to my soul; 

Marvelous mercy thou showest, 
Thee I will ever extol. 

Keep me, O Savior, so near thee, 

That, in thine eye, I may see, 
Pictured, my life as it is now, 

Changing to what it should be. 

When in the heat of life's conflict 

Weariness weighs down my heart, 

Then 'neath thy wing's cooling shadow 
Courage and fresh zeal impart. 

When I awake from life's dreaming — 
Life and death both have passed by — 

Then will the sight of thy glory. 
Me, thy redeemed, satisfy! 



28 



GUIDE THOU ME 

O Father, guide thou me, 

Keep with thy sovereign love, 

My soul that flies to thee. 

When clouds are dark above. 

Oh, keep me near to thee ! 

Hold with almighty grasp 
My hand, which ne'er would be 

Sufficient thine to clasp. 

Draw me so close to thee 
That in thine eye of love, 

The image, I may see. 

Of self, — and thou approve. 

But more than that, O Lord, 
Let beam from out mine eye 

Thy image, thine own word, 
To prove that thou art nigh. 



29 



THE VOICE IN THE GLOOM 

Deep is the darkness of sin, 
Gloom is without and within, 
Hands that are helpless and weak, 
Outstretched in shadow to seek ! 
Lips that are weary with quest ! — 
Groping are they for the best. 

No one is righteous, not one ; 
Guilt has the lost race undone,. 
Sin has defiled the fair face 
Of all the w^orld with disgrace. 
Heaven is with clouds overcast, 
Nought that is good seems to last. 

Once in a while from the gloom, 
Just like a voice from a tomb. 
Words from some prophet of God- 
Led by his chastening rod — 
Into the world's shame and loss, 
Cast the bright hope of the cross. 



30 



A CONFESSION OF FAITH 

Oh, how sweet is the faith of the children of God ! 
Yea, how great the atoning power of the blood ! 
For the sins of the world on the cross Christ has 

borne, 
That from danger the children of men may be 

torn. 

By the faith of the sinner his soul is washed white 
In the blood of the Lamb, — there is now no more 

night, 
For the Light of the world through his bosom now 

beams, 
And he joys in the Christ who his soul now redeems. 

There is heaven upon earth for the one that in 
Christ 
Has the grace to resist when by sin he's enticed; 
His salvation is sure and the Savior is near 
And his faintest entreaty will certainly hear. 

Then for him who believes on Christ Jesus, the 
Lord, 
There is life everlasting, we're told in the Word ; 
And the joy in the Lord, which is felt here below, 
Will be full, when beyond death's dark river we go. 



31 



GOD'S CURSES UPON ADAM AND EVE 

Oh, who can read, without emotion 

Like the tide upon the ocean, 
The simple yet pathetic story 

Of man's sin and fall from glory? — 
Big with importance to the ages, 

Whose attention it engages. 
Ah, most sincerely we would praise thee, 

O our Father, and would raise thee 
The altar of a spirit lowly 

In our hearts, where, pure and holy. 
May every thought like a sweet savor 

To thy throne ascend. 

No waver 
Of doubt, the trailing of the slimy 

Serpent, through the low and grimy 
Attributes of our sinful being. 

May there be to keep from fleeing 
To grace divine, for all the curses, 

Written in those solemn verses, 
Are coupled with a lofty blessing. 

Eve, her woful sin confessing. 
Hears that her Seed shall bruise the Serpent; 
And the child-birth pangs, which her pent 



32 



In agony, are fraught with pleasure — 
Motherhood alone can measure 

The joy of life and love for others — 

Earth's redeemed by christian mothers. 

Man's curse, to him who doth adore thee, 

Father, and doth bow before thee, 
Becomes a glorious benediction. 

Side of which how tame is fiction! 
For God and for our loved ones, labor, 

Man to every man a neighbor. 
Is sweet almost beyond the portal 

Of sensations which are mortal. 

Thus those, we see, whose aspirations 

Are love's heavenly pulsations, 
Meet justice half-way; and the dying 

Savior hears their feeble sighing 
And takes upon himself their sorrow; 

And their heavy curses borrow 
From Calvary a glorious brightness 

Soul-washed purity and whiteness ; 
And chaste love changeth pain to joyance, 

Giveth to the heart a buoyance 
In all the toils and suffering given ; 

Home becomes the gate of heaven. 



3:^. 



IN GALILEE 

Sweet, 

At his feet, 

To hear his voice repeat 

The words of life that make our life complete. 

Good 

For each mood, 

Ev'n those least understood, 

The calm, kind voice that tells of Fatherhood. 

Peace, 

Ne'er to cease. 

But ever to increase. 

From Him whose sinless life caused sin's decease. 

Love, 

From above. 

Descending as a dove. 

On heads, bowed down, that aye his goodness prove. 

True, 

As the blue. 

Sweet as the early dew. 

The benediction of his face to view. 



34 



Grand, 

To withstand 

The evil here at hand, — 

To hear his ''well done'' in the better land. 

Christ 

And his tryst, 

By his live words enticed. 

We sure will reach the home, long sought, unpriced. 



35 



ISRAEL'S VALUE 

The Hivite and the Jebusite 

And all the rest in little Palestine 
Were nations of great size and might 
In regions of superb delight 

With glories wonderful, benign, 
To Israel coming from the desert plight. 

But after years spent in the desert's death, 
The white bones pointing out their track. 
From the fierce battle they did not turn back, 
The victor's confidence they did not lack. 

On all the hills they drew a freeman's breath. 

A harder conflict through the centuries 

Was fought out at each Canaanitish shrine, — 
Altar on high place where the infant dies, 
The asherah obscene where honor flies. 

The Baal-feast with glut of meat and wine. 

But when Jehovah's cult had won its way 

O'er neighboring cults of lust and cruelty. 
And prophet's voice proclaimed the coming Day, 
And love of God and God's love come to stay. 
Mankind had gained its first great victory. 



3G 



SIR WALTER SCOTT 

Thou hadst thy faults — who has them not- 
But spite of them, I love thee, Scott. 
I do not love thy foolish pride 
Which sought an honest trade to hide; 
I do not love the useless trick, 
Nor v^ise nor well nor politic. 
Which from thy world of lovers took 
The love-zest in each new-read book ; 
I rue, in spite of glory's glamour, 
Thy love of wine and lack of grammar; 
But all thy weaknesses. Sir Walter, 
Ne'er made my heart's afifection falter. 



37 



THE MUSE HAS THE BLUES 

I've lived full twenty summers 
And nearly as many winters, 

And several pet ideas 

IVe had knocked all to splinters. 

Time is a great destroyer, 
Worse than sulphuric acid, 

He gnaw^s away the heart strings 
Of restless souls and placid. 

I once could ev'n imagine 

That mankind loves true merit, 

I very soon had noticed 

Worth oft must hate inherit. 

I thought — in fancy's springtime, 

Or time to spring, if t pleases 
You better, for 'tis only 

A time for greens and breezes. 

I thought — again I say it — 

In youth, when smell of butter 

Rouses our young emotions. 

Which are ''intense and utter." 



38 



Forgive my wand'ring fancy — 
One's fancy's free to wander, 

If fancy free he's only. 

If not, he'd better ponder 

Life's many strange mutations — 
No matter what the meaning 

Of that big word, for Webster 
And I have a sim'lar leaning, — 

That is, in realms of language, 
We're apt to ride our mental 

Hobbies, nor give a farthing, 
If custom's care parental 

Fathers our pet caprices 

Or not. Once more I say it, 

I then thought men, if ordered 
By conscience would obey it. 

Time has destroyed my greenness. 
And now with truth I say it, 

'*If the pocket issues orders. 
The conscience will obey it." 

These rules are demonstrated, 
As all are, by exceptions. 

Then let's thank God for all those 
Who live and die exceptions. 



39 



To all the gross traditions 

Of hell and Madam Grundy, 

Whose nobler natures rise high, 

Like tides in the Bay of Fundy. 



40 



THE HEART OF CHRIST 

The heart of Christ the world has won. 
The Babe, that first glad Christmas day, 
Has o'er the world a boundless sway, 

Because the cross its work has done. 

We see him on his weary way 

Cast himself down at Jacob's well. 
And alway needful men will tell 

What to the woman he did say. 

As joyous as the wedding bell 

Were hearts at Cana's marriage feast; 

The joy of all men is increased, 
With gratitude all bosoms swell 

From highest rank unto the least. 
For Jesus Christ, the Son of man. 
The highest hope of all who can 

See love, God's love, in man and beast, 

Was there a guest. The heavenly plan, 
That human pleasure should be pure, 
Was seen. The kindly word, the cure 

That lifted, — blessed fact, — the ban 



41 



From leper and insane, the sure 

Step to the halt, sight to the blind, 
The dead to Hfe, — all that we find 

In sacred books, that still endure, 

Pour in upon the open mind 

The one great thought that God is love. 
All earthly turmoil far above. 
The Christ is by the race enshrined. 



PD 33 



42 



THE MEANING OF CHRISTMAS 

The dead Christ, as he hung 

Upon the bitter wood, 
The darkness of the shadow flung 

Upon the ones that stood, — 

The yelling mob went by, 
The soldiers lounging lay, 

John and the Marys stood hard by 
"With faces ashen gray. 

But downcast hearts grew brave. 
And eyes were bright with vim ; 

For they had seen an empty grave, 
And filled their hearts with Him. 

The Man of Galilee 

Was with them after this. 

The world of men from sea to sea 
Must share the hallowed bliss. 

A generation new, — • 

They had not seen the Christ, — 
The story of his life review, 

Each scrap is held unpriced. 



43 



The Babe of Bethlehem 

Becomes a thing of joy. 
They touch with awe the garment hem 

Of Mary's wondrous Boy ! 

A birthday then must be 

For Jesus, born to save, 
A day of holy, festive glee 

From mountain top to wave. 

So Christmas day is born. 

And Christmas mirth is had, 

Each nation's ways the day adorn, 
And all the world is glad ! 

And Christmas yet brings cheer 

And ever will, we hope. 
To young and old the day is dear 

With ever widening scope. 

Whose love to God is bright. 

Who helps along life's way. 
Who shines in sorrow's darksome night,- 

He keeps the Christmas day. 



44 



JUL ^'^ ^"^12 










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